At The End of the Day
by FreeCyberBird
Summary: A stranger shows up at Sherlock's hotel door. But, is he really? [Quite Simple Oneshot - TAKES PLACE AFTER TRF]


Sherlock frowns as he hears the rapping on the door. Of course, he knows who it is—he'd immediately identified him by the rhythm of the knocking. It was fast and repetitive. "Something urgent?" Sherlock ponders aloud, and then scoffs. It rarely seemed something urgent. That man would've found a way inside already.

The man at the door was somewhat childish, always too excited and always spouting out whimsical nonsense. The man was also somewhat important, and powerful_. _Oh, Sherlock begrudgingly acknowledges that the man—who was still annoyingly knocking at his hotel door—was slightly more important than the average man. After some consideration, Sherlock admits that the man is probably more important than anyone on Earth.

Because of that, Sherlock doesn't see that man as friend, enemy, or anyone too close in relationship. The man wasn't an acquaintance, on any means. He was a force—a force few could control. Coming to that conclusion, Sherlock doesn't get up to answer the door. That man would eventually find his way inside.

Ever calm and calculating, the detective sits in an armrest staring at the door. As he'd predicted, a few minutes later, he hears an almost wheering sound, and his hotel door open. However, unlike he'd predicted, Sherlock didn't expect a rather solemn-looking man walking in.

"Hello." In a low-tone, the man greets, and closes the door behind him.

Sherlock nods in reply, his eyebrows creasing downwards. It's been years since he's last seen this man, the last time Sherlock had seen him was barely out of teenage years. Since then, Sherlock has grown, and changed. He's always been cunning, extraordinarily so, but time has given Sherlock a certain intelligence that he didn't have as a teenager. As for the man standing in front of him, Sherlock could tell that much has changed for him too. Unlike before, the man standing in front of him now held certain kind of air about him. It seemed more dark, more alien.

Noting the dismay on the detective's face, the man says, "I was rather in the area, so I…um…I had decided to drop by. Noticed things." The man adds, "Noticed the year, too."

Raising his head, it dawns to Sherlock, and some of the dismay erases. A familiar feeling of annoyance starts filling his inner-self. "Ah, so, you've noticed the news tabs?"

The man shortly affirms, "Yeah. Actually," after some rustling, and going through his coat, the man pulls out the newspaper and waves it. "Got it right here."

Feeling scorn for the simple newspaper, Sherlock states, "I don't suppose you believe them."

"No, no. Tabs are rubbish. Always been that way." The Doctor looks at the news with contempt also, but continues.

"However, not that sometimes they aren't true because, every now and then, the newspaper reports alien sightings, and… They're actually true!" And, he looks away from Sherlock, and adds, "Usually it's 'Aliens' in bold text. Front page. And, oddly enough, that's the news that isn't accepted as true. But, '_Fake Genius Commits Suicide'…_Oh, that. That is the news everyone wants to believe!" The Doctor ends on a sour note, and shakes his head in disbelief.

"People believe what is easiest for them." Sherlock adds in distaste after a strained silence filled the room.

The Doctor agrees. And, when the silence evens out again, Sherlock finally addresses the Doctor.

"Why are you here, Doctor?"

The Doctor thinks of his reason of being inside the hotel room, and starts, "I wasn't planning on being here originally." The Doctor scratches his head sheepishly, but it only confirms what Sherlock knew. "But, as I said before, I noticed the year, the news, and I decided to drop by."

"Ah." It's obvious to Sherlock now. Why the Doctor was so glum. Why he was different. Sherlock suspected something, and now he understands. Sometime tragic must've happened, and by the looks of it, it looks like the alien recently lost something. Unbeknownst to he, himself, Sherlock's jaw tightens, and the annoyance he's felt increases.

"It appears we share similar situations," Sherlock sits upright. "We are both alone. Both equally unsure. I know why you are here…You want something, Doctor."

The Doctor doesn't respond, and looks away from the detective. This simple move confirms Sherlock's suspicions.

"Have you come to take me away, again?"

* * *

**A/N: Thank-you for reading! I made a Tumblr post originally for this fanfic, but I didn't want to impose, and publish it to Tumblr. (Since, it's a gifset, and, it seemed easier to read on Fanfiction).**

** Anywho, I hope you enjoyed it. Crossing my fingers that this made sense because this is what writing half-delirious at two in the morning looks like.**

**R&R**


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